


Aftershocks

by onyxshinigami



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyxshinigami/pseuds/onyxshinigami
Summary: The Western Approach and attack on Adamant Fortress take a toll beyond the obvious. Friendships falter and feelings fracture as pain lingers beyond the veil.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Male Lavellan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Aftershocks

The light was too bright behind his closed eyes.

His head ached and his tongue was a barren desert. The heat pressed down on him, crushing his spirit deep into his bones. The sands had seeped into his skin and sapped every drop of moisture from his core. He felt more tired now than when he had gone to sleep last night.

He was not made for desert climes.

He sighed deeply, pulling in air to force his body to relax as he began casting a spell he had crafted to endure the desert. He slowly cooled the air close to his skin, making life just a little more bearable. It was a lazy spell, one that would cling to him and follow without direct action. It would hover around him like a cloud, an aura to soothe his aching frame. The slow drain on his mana would tire him throughout the day, leave him with a dull throb behind his eyes, but it was all he could do to endure.

Unlike his companions. Who seemed to be thriving. Much to his irritation.

The Iron Bull was glowing. He was positively radiant from the sun. The desert light glinting off his horns, shimmering over his steely-grey skin, warming and darkening and caressing the Qunari. Iron Bull stood tall, alert, and sure. Leaf watched him as he surveyed the horizon, a grin playing across his lips, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He’d been grinning ever since they spotted a High Dragon. Leaf wondered if they’d cross the creature’s path again. Bull certainly seemed to be hoping so.

Dorian was positively perky outside of minimal complaints about sand in his shoes. He glided across the dunes as they searched for raiders, lost chantry markers, phoenix feathers, and Darkspawn. The desert winds seemed to sweep Dorian’s robes into a mesmerizing wonder of movement and colour. The sun kissed Dorian’s skin gently, like a lover, browning him all over and, if it were possible, making him even more beautiful.

Leaf tried not to resent Dorian as the man strutted about half shirtless in glory. Leaf would have burnt and blistered if the sun touched him. Instead, he was wrapped head to toe in light, breathable cotton robes that blocked the sun. Leaf kept the cowl drawn over his head constantly to avoid the sun splitting his skull or frying his delicate ears. He felt as if he were shrouded for burial and it made him uneasy. 

Cole, as always, was untroubled by the weather.

Leaf was wary of complaining. There was nothing that could be done about the heat outside of what he was already doing. He had delayed their search for some research supplies for a few days while he rested in Griffon Wing Keep. He told himself he was waiting for the bridge across the poison springs to be completed. That had been completed two days ago. He could delay no further. Darkspawn had been sighted. People were depending on him.

With a reluctant sigh Leaf rolled from his side to his back, staring up at the cloth covering of the tent feeling, with deep satisfaction, the cooling, soothing wash and wave of his spell over his skin. As he lay there, drawing up the willpower required to actually begin moving, he listened to the sounds of the Keep. The voices of the soldiers as they went through drills and the everyday rhythm of their regimented lives. The distant voices of the merchants bartering and bickering with their customers. The laughter. The soft rush of the wind.

The tent flap pulled back, the fabric rasping against itself in complaint.

“Hey boss, you awake?” the Iron Bull poked his head in.

“Barely,” Leaf groaned. “Why couldn't the Venatori find a nice, cool forest to discover their hidden treasures?” 

“Just think of all the bugs we could run into; huge, buzzing, disgusting, antenna wiggling.”

“Dragonflies are pretty.” Leaf sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. “You didn't wake me to talk about bugs, Bull. What's wrong now?”

“A scout spotted darkspawn on the horizon, over the hill where we think the Venatori are hiding out. I figured you'd want to get a quick start before the trail goes cold. The wind is high today; the desert isn't keeping any tracks.”

Leaf raked his fingers through his hair, untangling the knots as best he could. He quickly wrapped himself in his light robes and rubbed ointment over his face that Vivienne had promised would protect his skin. It had worked so far, much to Leaf’s relief. He would have to thank her dearly when he returned to Skyhold. Leaf made sure he was well stocked with potions before he picked up his staff and followed the Iron Bull out of the tent.

The tide of darkspawn wait for no man.

***

The ruins were cool; the shade most welcome. The darkspawn were numerous, ebbing swollen tides of blood and filth and bone. The Venatori were nothing short of resourceful. How they ever managed to cart a giant into the desert, let alone even mildly trained it to attack others and not themselves, Leaf would never know. He’d only ever seen the creatures from a far, far distance in his youth, and the Keeper had kept the clan well clear of the area ever after.

“It's thin here. Spirits were here even without the rifts,” Cole wiped the blood of the giant from his blades; readjusted his hat. “Very old voices. I can barely hear them.”

“What songs do they sing?” Leaf asked, his eyes scanning the surrounding area, around, up the cliffs, down the narrow sandy valley. Too many places for bandits and Venatori to hide. At least the Giants were relatively easy to see.

“Sweet, clear, and cool sliding down the throat. Life; worth dying for. Sands stained red as rust, but it isn’t. Coolness across the throat and the song ends.”

Leaf closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the gods for the peace of the spirits in this place. He could barely exist here as it was. He could not imagine living in such an environment. His clan travelled following well known water routes, rivers and streams leading gently to lakes and vast swaths of greenery. Water was never far away. Food fairly close by. He’d never thought he’d see his life in retrospect as relatively luxurious.

“I feel…” Leaf stretched out his senses, feeling a ripple, a wave, then a crackling spark. “There’s a rift.” Leaf turned towards the sensation, the nerves in his left hand sparking as he moved forward; a needle to stitch the torn sky. He followed the faint, shifting magic; the distant sensation growing stronger as they exited the ruins and descended into yet another sandy canyon.

Into the path of another giant.

***

Feet, shuffling and dragging and silent, following him up the rocky shifting sand, winding their way through the narrow, craggy path scoured and scarred by sand and time. 

“If I run into one more giant in this Maker forsaken blight-tainted desert…” Dorian groused.

“What’s the matter? Not enough variety for you? Perhaps you’d prefer that dragon we saw a few days ago.” Bull grinned as he huffed and grunted up the sharp incline.

“I’d rather not and say we did if you don’t mind.” Dorian replied, using his staff as a walking stick in a bid to get up the incline without sliding backwards.

“She smells blood. The hatchlings are hungry. She never stops hunting.” Cole turned his head to the west. “She’s very big.”

“We’re close,” Leaf announced. “I can feel it.”

“Sharp, stinging; wasp wings under skin. Pulling, tearing. Heal it or end it,” Cole whispered.

“There!” Leaf exclaimed as he crested the top of the rocky slope. The sickly green light was oozing through the air, the yellowish tint of infected pus. As Leaf hurried across the sandy plateau the sky pulsed, cracked, and tore open. Spirits on the other side of the Veil were pulled through, twisted and broken into wrong shapes, pain pulling at the edges as their lack of self was rendered into something other than what they were. Faced with demons of Rage and Despair, wisps insubstantial but deadly in their ability to mimic other, more powerful demons and their uncanny skill at sapping the strength from your core, the four men fell into familiar formation.

The Iron Bull, big, boasting, battering. Cole blending behind, daggers in darkness, one-two-three. Dorian, glittering fire and flame, burning so brilliantly, spells shouted joyfully. Leaf, a whisper frozen in the second before the storm. Lightning cracking the sky, ice freezing soil that had never before known its touch. Dorian attacking Despair; Leaf facing down Rage. Between the demons and the mages stands the Iron Bull. The demons will never reach the men. Cole darts and disappears behind them, between them, daggers driving deep and sure and true; always where the blade needs to be. The Iron Bull gives the killing blow, pieces of Fade creatures splatter across the sand.

When the demons are dispatched, Leaf focuses his will on the torn sky. The magic of the Mark leaps forward, grasping, glowing tendrils that sew and stitch and seal the sky, separating the Fade from the World once more. The Veil repaired. Thin, but whole once more.

The drain it causes on the elf is something he refuses to complain about.

Each time Leaf stitches the sky he feels depleted; drained of a piece of his spirit, aching in his bones and nerves flaring into a momentary inferno. It’s exhausting, but he casts his gaze around at his companions, his friends. He sees their tired, sometimes bloody faces. He sees the relief that they still live and that everyone is whole and hale. He cannot bring it upon himself to increase their burdens any further by worrying for him.

The Iron Bull moves silently to his side and Leaf leans in to him. The shadow Bull casts is large enough to shelter him for this one, selfish moment. Leaf rests his forehead on the Iron Bull’s chest, reaches up a hand to caress the bone under his neck. He speaks softly, the words and song of healing drifting from him to flow over the Iron Bull; torn skin mended, bruises soothed away.

Bull grunts his thanks, bends down and rests his chin on the top of Leaf’s head for but a moment before they move apart. Leaf checks Cole for injury as the Iron Bull scans the horizon for any further trouble. They spot a fortress that looks abandoned and head in its direction; weary, wary and worn.

The shadow of a dragon crosses their path.

***

The situation has gone from miserably horrid to utterly unbearable.

The darkspawn on the surface have been slain and their underground entrance destroyed. The Venatori they have encountered are defeated and driven out. There is an insider willing to trade secrets for his life. Things should have been looking up.

The Champion of Kirkwall arrived with a Grey Warden named Stroud. Leaf had only met the men briefly beforehand and felt only the faintest familiarity with Hawke due to Varric’s many tales. Still, it was nice to see a familiar face in an unfamiliar environment.

Hawke did not make things better.

The situation became rapidly worse as the Venatori known as Erimond revealed an overarching scheme the likes of which made Leaf’s blood curdle. 

The Grey Wardens had been corrupted from the inside.

An ancient Tevinter mage, part blight and part darkspawn, had found a way to corrupt and control the blighted blood that flowed through the Warden’s veins. The very thing that gave Grey Wardens protection and power over the Blight was the source of their downfall and destruction at the hands of this creature.

Leaf did not rest easily that night. He rolled from side to side unable to find comfort, unable to rest his thoughts. He tried breathing deeply, tried to recall the steps of the Dance of Six Candles, tried to list the names of plants he knew that began with a ‘ch’ sound. Hissing with frustration he pulled at the curls of his hair, threading his fingers through roughly, tearing painfully at the scalp. The Iron Bull lay still next to him, but the frustrated, wordless grumbling he made as Leaf disturbed his rest was yet another source of irritation. With a huff of breath Leaf rolled off of his nest of bedding and stormed out of his tent. He was clad in loose pants and a thin sleeveless shirt, so he had no worries about offending anyones decency. He headed straight to the astrarium. A slight breeze was blowing, the cold desert night a welcome kiss on his skin. He nodded here and there to soldiers as he passed. The night shift was quiet, but vigilantly busy. Darkspawn did not rest simply because the sun went down.

Leaf climbed the short ladder to the astrarium. The metallic globe glowed and shifted, reacting to his touch. Leaf lowered his gaze to look through the machine, drifting his gaze across the far out stars. He wasn’t looking for any constellation in particular. He just needed something to focus his mind and still his restless hands. Nerves were pulsing, jittering an irritating dance under his skin. He was mad at himself for being unable to sleep, unable to calm down, unable to keep control of his temper in this unnatural, blighted desert.

The Keep was cold at night. Fires were needed to keep warm. Leaf usually slept close to the Iron Bull for the shared body heat. The thought of any living thing touching him at this moment sent him into a panicked rage.

A glint of light streaked through the sky. He stepped back from the machine and looked up. Out of habit, Leaf tied a knot in his hair as he made a wish. He worried it between his fingers, repeating the words over and over in his mind. The repetitive motion, the familiar feel of smooth hair under his fingertips, the soft and most blessed breeze. These things combined to form a balm that slowly quieted his mind.

They would have to return to Skyhold. Something must be done about the Grey Wardens, and fast, before they were lost forever.

***

Adamant Fortress fell, along with the Grey Wardens. The ruin and wreckage of ages past lay at their feet. Those that survived were grateful for life. Emotions ran high and blood ran hot. Mages were inconsolable in their grief; that their actions had doomed so many of their friends, comrades, lovers. Warriors stood silent, hollow; the weight of their choices destroying them as surely as the blighted blood in their veins. Some begged for execution, some the chance for redemption.

Leaf chose to forgive.

That decision did not sit well with several of his Inner Circle. Solas turned his back on Leaf, stalking silently away. Cassandra’s anger was cold, the judgement in her eyes painful for Leaf to endure, but endure he would. The Grey Wardens had been deceived, led down a dark and bloody path by the Venatori. It was not the Wardens Leaf held at fault; it was Lord Livius Erimond. It was he Leaf would not forgive. The unapologetic fanatic had been captured by the Inquisition soldiers and was being transported back to Skyhold under Cullen’s supervision.

The ruin and wreckage of their journey through the Fade would not be easy to recover from. Dorian, Solas, and Vivienne could be heard discussing and debating the potential impact their journey through the Fade could have had not only upon the spirits dwelling there, but upon the world itself. Cassandra was silent, but the vision, or soul, or spirit that called itself Divine Justinia had the Seeker questioning, brooding upon matters of faith. Varric was writing frantically, letters to Skyhold, letters to Kirkwall, even letters to Weishaupt to inform them of Hawke’s impending arrival. Blackwall was sullen. Sera was downright surly.

Cole was troubled; skittish and flinching, hiding from those around him. Leaf would catch a glimpse of the young man out of the corner of his eye, but when he would turn his head, there would be only emptiness.

_"Everyone, if I get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open.”_

_“I'll bear that in mind,” Varric said as he shifted Bianca from his back to a ready position at his shoulder._

The Iron Bull was... working through some things. 

Leaf rode behind him as they travelled back to Skyhold. They shared a tent when they rested briefly, but it wasn’t comfortable. Leaf collapsed at camps and passed out from exhaustion. If he did stir during the night, he would wake to see Bull still alert. Sometimes lying on his back, staring up at the canvas of the tent. Other times Bull was seated, as if in meditation. Eye closed, breaths slow, deep and steady; wind moving through thick summer leaves. Leaf wished he knew how to help. He wasn’t sure if Bull even wanted to be close to him anymore. Demons and magic could do that to a person. It wouldn’t be the first time magic had cost him.

They were three days journey from Skyhold when Leaf awoke to overhear Vivienne and Bull talking just outside the tent. The glow from the firelight peeked through the seam of the tent opening, hushed tones drifting with care and curiosity. Cold, clear air carrying sound with clarity.

“So was it like that when you went through your Harrowing to become a Circle mage?”

“No. My Harrowing was nothing like that.” Vivienne replied. Leaf imagined her face in the firelight, stern and strong, softness in her eyes when she looks at those she loves.

“At least I don't have to worry about crap from the Fade trying to kill us anymore.” A shifting of weight, the sound of liquid in a vial, or a bottle. A satisfied exhalation.

“Why not?”

“We kicked the Nightmare's ass! You gotta figure any demon is gonna think twice before coming after us now.” Bold and boasting. Fear conquered in the face of a friend.

“Actually the depth of emotion you experience might draw demons to you more strongly.”

“Oh for shit's sake.”

Leaf could hear the frustration in Bull’s voice, the quiet rumbling and grousing followed by Vivienne’s softer tone. Possibly educating, possibly reassuring, more than likely both. Vivienne was an amazing source of information, cold comfort, and practical reassurance. Leaf had come to rely on her greatly and he loved her dearly. He wanted to please her the way he had wanted to please his Keeper when he was growing up with the rest of his clan. He had been desperate for some, any sign of approval or affection, especially after his parents had chosen to ignore him; abandoned him even though they were still there.

Leaf lay quietly, torn between the desire to join his friends, wanting the comfort of their company, and riddled with the fear that once they reached Skyhold the Iron Bull would turn his attention elsewhere, leaving him alone once again. He would go back to being ‘boss’, and nothing more.

He wouldn’t blame Bull if he did.

He lay quietly in his blanket, lonely in the cool darkness, waiting for sleep to claim him.

***

The first few days back at Skyhold were a blur of meetings with his Ambassador, Spymaster, and General. Cullen gave him updates on the state of the Inquisition’s troops, movements that were planned, and areas that needed their attention. Between the Venatori and the Red Templars, it seemed there was no place safe on Thedas. Leliana passed along information regarding certain interesting parties that she was looking into, her network of informants and spies bolstered by the faith the people had in the Inquisition. Josephine, ever graceful and gentle, had some problems of her own that Leaf was eager to help her get settled very quickly. Assassins were not a light threat after all, and Josephine was quite literally invaluable to Leaf. He doubted he would have been able to accomplish a fraction of what he had if not for her skills and brilliance.

The Iron Bull had left to go on a mission with the Chargers under Cullen’s orders. Skinner and her scouts were needed for a delicate operation. Bull and Krem would be necessary backup if something were to go wrong.

Leaf would have been lying if he said he was adjusting to Skyhold’s routine. The absence of the Iron Bull was not doing his mind any favours. Denied the chance to talk, the chance just to be by Bull’s side, it was playing havoc with Leaf’s mind. The anxiety caused him physical pain, his heart racing, beating painfully in his chest, waking him up throughout the night. His stomach filled with rolling jolts of electricity. There were days he couldn’t force himself to eat more than a few crackers with cheese. He dreaded leaving his bed in the morning, every decision of his past weighing heavily upon his racing, skittering mind as he lay there, sleepless and exhausted and unable to focus on anything for more than moments at a time. Doubts and What Ifs tore at his heart. Every choice, every word, every miniscule action he had ever done in his life was recalled, replayed, scrutinized, second and third guessed.

Leaf would have chosen to talk to Cole, but the young man was still dealing with the aftereffects of Adamant in his own way. Leaf had heard him arguing with Solas several times already, but about what he was unsure. The two had ceased to speak whenever they caught sight of him, Cole leaving and Solas greeting him with that cold, implacable formality he had whenever he disapproved of someone. It seems Leaf had lost whatever progress he thought he had made with Solas in terms of closeness, or friendship. Another blow to his already fragile state of emotions.

Leaf wanted comfort and reassurance. Cole and Bull were his main source of both. Their absence left Leaf feeling more bereft of contact than he had felt since he was a child. To have finally experienced friendship, maybe even love? And then to have it taken away in an instant. Just one choice and everything was all broken and screwed up and ruined again. He thought he had been doing the right thing. 

So why did it hurt so much?

***

It was late afternoon when Leaf and Josephine returned to Skyhold. The trip to Orlais had been successful. The House of Repose was no longer contracted to assassinate the head of the Montilyet household, Josephine was safe once again. Leaf stood quietly in the courtyard, stroking the neck of his hart as his companions handed their mounts over the stablehands. Dorian and Sera disappeared into the stables, and Cassandra and Josephine headed off towards the main hall. Leaf remained in the courtyard for a few moments longer, enjoying the stillness. He waved off the last stablehand and led his hart to the stables himself. He was in no hurry to return to the confines of his room.

Leaf handed his mount over to Master Dennet. With a final rub on its velvety muzzle and a whisper of thanks, he walked into the barn.

Warden Blackwall was standing by the table where he was working on a riding griffon for some of the children at Skyhold. _“Something to keep the hands busy,”_ he had said weeks ago. His tools were lined up neatly, the tabletop slightly dusty. There was significantly more detail to the griffon’s feathers than there had been when Leaf had left for Orlais. The Warden turned to gaze over his shoulder, offering a small smile when he saw who was approaching.

“Inquisitor,” he nodded in greeting.

Leaf bowed his head, but remained silent as he moved over to look at the wooden griffon. He admired the skill and patience it took to make such things. He briefly remembered watching the crafters of his clan making bowls and bows and nails of wood, amazed at the things they could create. He had never been tested to see if he possessed the potential for any of those skills. Magic had taken him early down a path not of his choosing, but of necessity.

“How are you doing, Blackwall? After…” Leaf let his voice trail off, eyes skimming over the griffon, giving time and silence for an uncomfortable question.

“All things considered? Could be worse. Cullen’s working out a plan; Leliana’s keeping an eye on everyone in Thedas it seems.” Blackwall shifted his weight from side to side, a habit he had when he was uncomfortable, Leaf had noticed. Blackwall had never really opened up about his past, and Leaf had never pried. There are some regrets you don’t talk about with just anyone. “You did the right thing, you know. Giving the Wardens a chance. After all they’ve done for the world, they deserve that at least.”

“They were lied to. I couldn’t just exile them. It wouldn’t be right. Like Hawke said, ‘Good men following bad orders’. It didn’t feel right to just... But…” he stopped.

“There’s no way to please everyone. Ever.” Blackwall said softly. “You made a decision and you’re standing by it, even if people give you shit for it. At least you had the guts to do what you felt was right. Some people never do that. They live with a different type of regret.”

Leaf heaved a heavy sigh. He traced his fingers over the smoothly sanded wood of the feathered neck. “Does it ever get easier?”

“What?”

“Regret.”

Blackwall regarded Inquisitor quietly before turning his gaze to the fire. The light was quickly dimming in the stable now that the sun had dipped below the walls of the keep.

“No. And yes.” Blackwall crouched down to add a few sticks to the fire, rooting at the ashes and embers beneath, shadows darkening and dancing over his stern face. “It lingers. Smaller ones fade away in time but the big ones…”

The wood crackled and popped. The horses and harts shifted in their stalls. Mabari barked off in the distance. Laughter, not so very far away.

“The real regrets stay with you. Sometimes you can stop remembering them for a while, but they will always haunt you.” Blackwall stood up, gaze lingering on the fire. “You have to find a way to live with them. Use it as a way to change what you do going forward. The past is done. It can’t be changed, only the future.” Blackwall turned and gave a small grin that did not reach his eyes. “We learned that at Redcliffe, didn’t we?”

Leaf gave a ghost of a smile. “True.”

He moved over closer to the fire to stand beside Blackwall for a while, gazing into the fire, trying to forget the turmoil inside for just a moment. That was all he was asking, really. Just a moment of peace.

The two men remained side by each, gazing into the fire, lost in their own thoughts, searching for comfort in shared misery.

***

The Chargers were back. Leaf had been expecting them thanks to Leiliana’s message.

It hadn’t made the waiting any better.

Leaf did not go out to greet the Chargers as they arrived in Skyhold, as he would normally do. He knew he would get a full report soon, and he knew the mission was successful. He told himself he was being considerate of their need for food and rest. 

He knew he was lying.

He watched them as they dismounted and dispersed, the broad, dark figure of the Iron Bull clearly identifiable even from up here on his balcony.

Bull entered the tavern behind Krem.

Leaf turned away from the balcony and went back to the stack of papers on his desk that Josephine wanted him to sign.

He tried to ignore the tightness in his throat as he worked, focusing on keeping his handwriting neat, steady, and clean.

***

It was later in the evening after the sun had gone down. The moons were cresting the mountains when a soft knock came at his door. The person did not wait for permission to enter. Leaf heard the door open, and lock, and the familiar pattern of the Iron Bull’s steps trudging up the stairs to Leaf’s private room.

“Hey Boss,” the Iron Bull grinned, “Good to see ya. Miss me?”

Leaf’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. He placed his quill neatly to the side of his desk, stood up, and pushed in his chair. He felt light headed. Had he eaten today? Probably not. Bull didn’t seem angry at him. He had even come here. Leaf pulled at the end of his tunic to straighten it, fidgeting with the cuffs as he moved around the desk and stood closer to the center of the room. Leaf’s gaze flitted everywhere, as if he were unable to decide where to look. The fire, the bedpost, the rug, Bull’s boots, the window, Bull’s right hand, Bull’s eyepatch, the floor.

“Hey,” the Iron Bull said softly, stepping closer. “You doing okay?” Bull leaned forward to place a basket on the floor, then raised a hand as if to cup Leaf’s cheek.

Leaf flinched.

The Iron Bull withdrew his hand, standing up tall once more.

“...sorry.” Leaf whispered, eyes cast down to the stone floor, angry at himself for such a poor reaction.

“It’s alright,” Bull said softly.

Leaf stood there, feeling foolish. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and tried to control himself better. He’d been on edge, uncertain for so long, talking himself into such a panic of anxiety and despair he didn’t know what feeling was real or not any longer.

“You okay?” Bull asked.

Leaf shook his head, balling his hands into fists, willing himself some semblance of self control. He’d been waiting for Bull to return so they could talk, wanting Bull to come back and sleep beside him and hold him in his arms and make him feel safe and loved and tell him when he was being stupid.

Leaf didn’t need anyone to tell him he was being stupid right about now.

He felt like he’d choke if he had to talk, but if he didn’t talk things couldn’t get better, and if things got worse and Bull left him for sure-

A gentle hand under his chin, not touching, not yet, but present, asking.

Leaf shivered. He wanted, needed to be held so bad. But it was so hard to ask. His bones anticipated the rejection he had felt all his life, until he fell into this Inquisition. Until he met Bull. The memory of it was killing him.

Bull’s hand remained just under his chin, unwavering. Leaf thought he could feel the warmth drifting up from his skin.

Leaf shivered and edged his face forward by the most miniscule of increments, the motion hesitant and jerky, stuttering across the space between.

Contact.

Rough, strong fingers under his chin. A thumb pressed gently just under his mouth, lifting. Up. Up.

“Hey. I’m here.” Bull’s voice, so deep, so gentle. Leaf trembled and shook, his heart beating so hard and fast in his chest that it hurt, his blood rushing in his ears almost deafening. Every past memory of Leaf’s was screaming at him to run. This was another game, another rejection, another moment where he was about to be cast aside. Unwanted. Unneeded. Unloved.

“You’re deep in there,” Bull’s hand moved slowly over his cheek, cupping almost half of Leaf’s head, “But I can still see you. I’ll wait. When you’re ready.” Bull’s thumb caressed the vallaslin over Leaf’s cheekbone and Leaf shuddered. It was one of his favourite touches.

Leaf felt choked by his own fear. He couldn’t find his voice. Wasn’t sure he could use it even if he found it in time. His gaze was unfocused, still darting, he couldn’t concentrate. Bull’s horns, the eyepatch, a new cut on Bull’s chest, the thick stubble on his chin, Bull’s lips, the ears, the tip of his nose.

 _“Speak, damnit,”_ he cursed at himself. _“Say...something!”_

Frustrated, infuriated at himself, his inability to just be normal for once in his life, rage welling up alongside the fear of rejection and abandonment, and still so very deeply afraid. Impotent burning fury in his belly and frozen blood.

Leaf released a deep breath, one he hadn’t realized he was holding, and leaned forward, just a little, slowly, timidly, until his forehead touched the Iron Bull’s chest.

And he broke.

The shaking became overwhelming, his chest began to heave in sobs and gasps. He felt the salt sting of tears welling up and overflowing his eyes. He tried to center on his breathing, tried not to hyperventilate, tried to ride the crest of panic and flow with it, not be consumed by it.

Leaf felt himself embraced by warmth. He lifted his arms and reached up trying his best to get them around Bull’s neck, even though he was far too short to accomplish such a feat without Bull leaning well down into his embrace. Bull leaned down into his grasp, held him tightly as he shook and breathed deeply, tried to focus on Here and Now and This, and not the demons of the past.

Leaf was once indignant at the ease with which the Iron Bull was able to pick him up and move him on their travels. Now he was grateful for that gentle strength. Without a sound, Bull lifted Leaf up and carried him over to the couch in front of the fire, sitting so that Leaf’s legs were around one of his thighs. Leaf was able to bury his face into Bull’s neck, clutching at the man as if he was the last good thing left in the world.

He was.

Bull held Leaf tightly, silently. The pressure was grounding, solid, warm. Leaf kept trying to bring his mind back to Here, Now, This.

Here. Skyhold. His room. With the Iron Bull. Sitting. Fire at his back. Warm hands holding him. Soft breath on his neck. The tickle of stubble on his cheek.

Now. Nightfall. Evening. The moment he had been waiting for and dreading and wanting so badly and was so afraid of.

This. This moment. In his arms. In their home. Bull was here. Bull was here. Bull was here.

It took time, longer than he would have liked, but Leaf began to feel more like himself. Exhausted and drained, but more in control. The unwanted tears flowed silently down his cheeks, down Bull’s neck. Leaf wiped at his eyes first, then he ran a hand over Bull’s neck before leaning back.

The Iron Bull held him firmly in place in his lap, allowed Leaf enough room to pull back and look him in the eye for the first time in what felt like ages.

Leaf saw many things in other people's eyes in the past; fear, skorn, disgust, pity, hatred, indifference. Leaf was so certain he would have seen one or more of those when he looked at the Iron Bull that he had been afraid. But none of that was there in that gray-green gaze, that sharp, perceptive glinting eye. Leaf saw concern, and worry. Leaf knew Bull well enough by now to know that Bull’s mind was fitting everything in place. Too smart for his own good sometimes. Leaf unwound his arms from around Bull’s neck and cupped his face, thumbs grazing stubble, lifting to smooth over Bull’s brow bone, trace the lines and scars on his face, touch his lips.

Bull caught one of his hands in his own and pressed a quick kiss to Leaf’s fingertips. Leaf jerked back reflexively, then shook his head and brought his hand back to Bull’s face. Bull said nothing, simply kissing the palm of his hand before allowing Leaf to caress him once more.

Leaf was exhausted, soul weary, more tired than if he had spent the day trekking across Thedas and fighting dragons. A different type of tired that left him hollow and defeated and drained. He cupped Bull’s face between his hands and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to the Bull’s brow at the place where soft skin met hard horn, then he rested his own forehead there, eyes closed, and breathed. Slow, calming breaths. The pressure of Bull’s arms around his body; hands at his waist and between his shoulders. The gentle pull of his own thighs as he sat on Bull’s leg. The warmth of the fire at his back and Bull’s firm belly pressed against his own. Breathing in. Breathing out. His hands idly tracing Bull’s cheeks and ears, jaw and nose. Soft and itchy and hard and rough.

Bull sat through it all without a sound, letting his features be memorized by thin, twiggy fingers. Words were not what Leaf needed right now. Bull began to run a hand up and down Leaf’s spine, a sure, hard press. Leaf moved to bury his face into Bull’s neck again. 

_Hold, me. Help me. I’m sorry for everything. Keep me safe. Please love me. I’m sorry. Help me. I hate this. I hate myself. I’m sorry. Please love me. Please._

Bull held him tight, almost crushing him in his arms. The pressure was a welcome relief and comfort. It was calming, soothing to feel safe in a warm embrace. Leaf shuddered and sighed, collapsing into the Bull more than relaxing into the embrace. He was hollow, exhausted, drained of every feeling he had except overwhelming fatigue.

“I’m here,” Bull said quietly. “Not going anywhere.” As if to reaffirm his words, Bull shifted and lifted a hand to the back of Leaf’s head, fingers pressing into his skull and neck, running his chin gently over the top of Leaf’s head.

“I’m sorry,” Leaf’s voice sounded as broken and weak as he felt.

“For what?” Bull’s hand on his head pressed a firm, gentle wave of pressure into his head. The hand at his waist ran soothing pressured circles across his lower back.

“Everything.”

Bull chuckled. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” Bull gave Leaf a very tight squeeze, one that left him breathless for a moment.

“...aren’t you mad at me? For Adamant?”

“No.”

The fire popped behind him and the logs shifted. Leaf could almost imagine that he heard the embers shifting in the hearth as they heated and cooled.

“Why?”

“Should I be?”

Leaf wriggled and the Iron Bull loosened his grip, letting Leaf shift and sit up to look face to face, more or less. Leaf sat with his hand placed on Bull’s chest, fingers gently pressing the clavicle. Leaf flicked his gaze between his fingers and Bull’s face as he spoke.

“I thought… with the demons. And the Wardens. And after. You should be furious with me.”

“Should I?”

Leaf glared weakly at Bull for a moment, frustration worming its way out of the ashes of his emotions.

“We all nearly died because of me. And then after. With the Wardens. Everyone-” Leaf choked on his words. “Everyone was. So. Angry. Like. I should have. I should have.” Leaf pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes so hard he saw glittering diamonds. He could feel his nails pressing sharply into his forehead. He pushed air angrily out of his lungs. “It wouldn’t have been right to punish them. They suffered. They suffered so much and they are still hurting and they are working with us to try and make amends for their mistakes and the mistakes of their leaders and they were LIED to! It’s not right.” Leaf found the embers of anger roaring to life in his belly again. Anger was too easy to feel, too quick to rise in defending one’s actions and choices. Red stars bursting behind his eyes.

Leaf felt Bull’s hands wrap around his wrists, pulling gently. Leaf allowed him to and looked up sullenly, realizing he was still afraid of Bull’s judgement.

“We survived because of you,” Bull said and pressed a kiss to Leaf’s fingertips. Leaf tried not to flinch away. “The Grey Wardens survived because of you. You did what you thought was right. Remember what I said when you asked me about my people? About how we pick our leaders?”

“You pick the ones that make the hard choices and live with them.” Leaf remembered.

“You’ve been making hard choices ever since I met you.” Bull let go of Leaf’s wrists and wrapped his arms around leaf’s waist once more. “Looks like this is the first one that really hurts.”

“No,” Leaf shook his head. “There’s always something that hurts.”

“Like Redcliffe?”

Leaf hissed. “Human Circles, no matter what Vivienne says, are horrid. People imprisoned for life for no fault of their own. People who could be out there helping others caged and tortured and tormented and killed simply because they have magic. It’s not right! They deserve a chance to be free, to live.” Leaf’s mind shuddered back to the horrors of Redcliffe, magic unchecked and destructive. His conversation with the man known as Connor, the man Cassandra seemed to hate on sight.

“But…” Bull waited.

“I still wish we had enough people at the time to reach out to the Templars. That we could have saved some of them too.”

“But we didn’t have enough people at the time.”

“I know!” Leaf snarled. The flare of anger spiked, then drained out of him; he had nothing left to give. “I know,” he repeated softly, his shoulders sagged in defeat. The weight of living had crushed him. He was doing all he could, but it seemed like no matter what, it would never be enough. He would never do anything right. He would never be what they wanted him to be.

“You’ve done all you can. More than most.” Bull smoothed a hand down the crest of Leaf’s hair, pushing gently, encouraging Leaf to rest his head on his chest once more. Leaf rested his head over the Iron Bull’s heart, wrapping a loose embrace around the massive grey chest. “It’s enough.”

“No,” Leaf replied quietly. The fire crackled alongside the sound of their intermingled breath as night clawed its way toward its darkest. “We both know. It will never be enough.”


End file.
